


I'll win your heart with a woop-a-woo

by kittenmichael



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, because this is written by me, but they love each other very much, hurt!luke, kinda what would have happened had there been a second part to 'it's one of those nights again', lol, luke is michael's loser, michael is luke's dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3679350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenmichael/pseuds/kittenmichael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's main goal is ruining Luke's life. But Luke is also his tiny, sensitive friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll win your heart with a woop-a-woo

**Author's Note:**

> for those of you who wanted a second part of It's One Of Those Nights Again, this portrays similar emotions so there you go

It’s an early morning for all of them. The umpteenth one in an endless cycle of sunrises and pesky alarm clocks. Michael’s eyes are still half-shut, and he’s bumped his toe at least three times in the past twenty minutes. Michael is in desperate need of a cup coffee.

That’s how he ends up in the makeshift kitchen of their tour bus with sweater paws and the irrepressible need to annoy someone.  Even with his vision still blurry, he can spot Luke curled up on the couch. He’s still half asleep, and Michael _envies_ him.

Whatever. A cup of coffee is his priority right now. He’s so tired he can’t even be bothered to ruin Luke’s day.

The soft buzz of the coffee machine is all too familiar by now. He rests his head against the kitchen cabinet while he waits. The steaming cup warms his hands, and the first sip burns his tongue. Oh well.

Now that he at least has caffeine running through his veins, he focuses on the task at hand. He sits down on his knees in front of the couch, feet tucked underneath his legs.

Luke looks younger when he’s asleep, they all do. His hair lies flat on his forehead in small waves, and his lips are slightly parted. He’s wearing one of Ashton’s shirts, but Michael can tell it has long lost his smell. Luke’s not cradling it like he would have otherwise.

Michael takes a deep breath and leans closer so his lips are no more than an inch from Luke’s face.

“ _Huke Lemmings, you are one ugly motherfucker!_ ”

He’s certain he woke the whole bus up, but mainly Luke. The boy shot up, eyes wide open and hands trembling. He looks frightened before he notices Michael. Then he just looks annoyed.

“Fucker.”

A smirk takes over Michael’s features, every single muscle in his face trying its hardest to give him the cockiest look he can muster. Judging by the look in Luke’s eyes, he succeeded. Michael kisses Luke’s cheek and gets up.

“Good morning!”

He’s already midway the bunks once Luke finds it in him to reply. Calum is in bathroom, so Michael will have to wait his turn. Ashton is still asleep in his bunk, the curtain half-closed. For a split second, he considers waking him up as well, before he realises just how awful that idea is. Not everyone is as lanky as Luke. Besides, the routine is a Muke tradition, as the fans would no doubt call it. ( _Fuck, Michael is probably the biggest Muke shipper in the whole fandom.)_

With a sigh, he returns to the lounge area. Which is also the kitchen.

_Tour life._

Luke is busying himself making some toast. His hair is still covering his eyes, and Michael is wondering if they’re going to have a repeat of the 6AM ER incident. This time, he wisely decides to wait until Luke has put the knife down. He holds his breath, trying his best to stay as quiet as possible. The thing is, Luke’s taking his time. The speed of his buttering is annoying him more every second, and by the time Luke finally turns around to sit on the couch, Michael is bubbling with irritation.

As Luke leaves the small counter, their eyes meet. Michael smiles when he recognises the panic in Luke’s eyes, they both know he’s fucked. And then he _slam dunks_ Luke’s toast on the floor. Of course it lands on the buttery side, because gravity is Michael’s bitch. Michael smirks even cockier now.

And Luke, well. Luke starts crying.

Which, _wow_ , that’s not the reaction Michael was hoping for.

“Luke?” Michael asks, his voice a lot softer now and his hands reaching out for Luke’s trembling frame. Luke only sobs harder. What started as a single tear rolling down his cheek has now turned into full on weeping. Michael curses himself and his genius pranks.

“Oh sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

Michael envelops Luke in a hug, smothers the shaking with his embrace. His thumb is rubbing circles underneath Ashton’s shirt, the fabric brushing against the back of his hands. He breathes softly against Luke’s temple, fully aware of how much the boy loves the hot air running through his hair.

“What happened?” he asks. His hands move to Luke’s lower back and hips, as he guides both of them to the couch. He pulls Luke on his lap, and Luke winces. Michael closes his eyes. It’s a total give-away. He’s about to speak up, tell Luke there’s no need for a painful explanation, when Luke finally starts talking.

“’M tired, and my bum hurts, and so do my back and my wrists. And we, we have a concert today, and an interview.” His words are interrupted by hick-ups and gentle shushes from Michael.

“That fucker,” Michael curses. “Come on, take off that shirt.” He helps Luke out of Ashton’s shirt before taking off his own. Their hands entwine when they both try to pull Michael’s sweater over Luke’s head, and it’s awkward and inconvenient, but Michael hates seeing Luke sad. He fishes a new sweater from somewhere where there shouldn’t be sweaters, and presses Luke tighter against his chest.

“It’s okay, love. Don’t worry about that,” he whispers. “I’ll get you some painkillers, alright? And I’m sure Calum still has some cream for your bum and your wrists.”

They don’t talk about these kind of things very often, usually Luke runs off with a blush colouring his cheeks while Ashton rolls his eyes. The fact that Luke doesn’t even flash an awkward smile shows Michael just how upset he is.

Luke nods. Michael presses a kiss in his hair, the soft strands tickling his lips. 

“Go back to sleep, babe. I’ll take care of you when you wake up.”

He angles Luke’s head so it’s pressed against his collar bone and rocks them both back and forward. The whole movement is a bit of hassle when sitting on such a small couch, but the way Luke stops trembling makes it all worth it. He hums softly in his ear, something he hasn’t done in a while.

“Sweet dreams, Lukey.”

Luke is already half-asleep when he replies. His words are muffled by the fabric of Michael’s sweater and slurred because of the fatigue.

“Night, Mikey.”

It’s morning, and all of them should be up by now, but Michael can’t bring himself to correct him.

 

*

 

( _“Ashton fucking Irwin!”_

_“I’m pretty sure that’s not my middle name.”_

_“The next time you’re that reckless with Luke I’ll castrate you. I swear to god. Hurt him again and I’ll rip you a new hairline.”)_

 

**Author's Note:**

> i was in a weird place when i wrote this sorry


End file.
